


That Blinding, Fluorescent Glow

by newyorktopaloalto



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alien Planet, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Escaping Capture, Future Fic, Gunshot Wounds, Imprisonment, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-02-09 14:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newyorktopaloalto/pseuds/newyorktopaloalto
Summary: Reed and Hayes are captured during what should have been a routine undercover mission.





	That Blinding, Fluorescent Glow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [therescoffeeinthatnebula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therescoffeeinthatnebula/gifts).



> Proper thanks to my Star Trek reader, and to my beta reader. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Enterprise, so please don't sue. 
> 
> I really hope that you enjoy this fic - I had a lot fun with your freeforms and details! Thank you for the absolutely amazing prompt. <3

The forest was dense. Blooming and verdant, the foliage ranged from ground-hugging ferns to creeping moss on trees so crowded together that it was difficult to tell which branches belonged to which trunks. Due to the rain the night before, the precipitation lingered, heavy against the still air, as the underbrush matted down in muddy clumps. 

There was a slight rustle from the bush as Hayes shifted position. Reed shot him a brief look at the sound he made—the two of them had been crouched, near silent, in the bushes for the last forty-five minutes. 

“I thought the captain said it would be fine. 'The Thelobians are so similar enough to humans that going undercover would be easy', isn't that what he said?” 

“Have you ever known the captain's plans to go at all accordingly?” Reed asked rhetorically, scrubbing off the last bit of latex ridging that Phlox had affixed to them, before triple-checking that his phase pistol was on its highest setting and settling himself into a better position. 

“No, but—” Hayes stopped himself and tilted his head to the side—Reed couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary, but he could also admit that Hayes' hearing had always been a mite more reliable than Reed's, and even more so after the explosion he had been caught in the month previous. 

“What?”

A beat passed as they crouched in silence, then two, and then a third went by before Hayes shook his head. “We should split up. Less likely to be caught if we're not together.” 

“And, should one of us get caught, well...” Reed twisted his mouth up a little, rueful, as he glanced towards Hayes. 

“Easier to get out.” 

Reed didn't know whether Hayes meant his statement as a demand to leave the other behind in order to keep their rendezvous with _Enterprise_ , or as tacit support in trying to execute a one-man rescue operation; they weren't exactly friends, but Reed would be damned if he actually left the man to his fate—without being entirely certain, Reed still felt confident that Hayes felt much the same should the situation be reversed.

“This is going to end up being a terrible decision,” Reed said, peering out from behind the underbrush with as little rustling as possible. 

“Yeah,” Hayes agreed. “So... you go left, I'll go right?” 

Reed nodded, physically biting down on his lips in order to metaphorically bite down the words he wanted to say in reply. Instead, he clicked his tongue and said, “That sounds fine enough. You have your comm. on you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We'll try and rendezvous back at the shuttlepod within the next two hours. If something goes wrong, just comm.—I'll do the same.” 

“How long do we wait?” 

It took a few long moments for Reed to comprehend the question being asked, distracted as he had become in seeing a few flashes of light at about twenty yards to their three. He bumped Hayes' shoulder with his own and jerked his head towards the new concern. Hayes sucked in a breath through his teeth; Reed could almost hear his jaw clench at the inevitable complication. 

“Think it's them?” 

Reed nodded as a branch snapped—the wildlife around them went silent. Either Reed or Hayes were going to get caught, it was more likely with every second they lingered. He looked over at Hayes, who was staring back at Reed with a firm determination that he could only take as fated resignation. 

“Hayes,” he warned, not caring that his voice was much too loud for their circumstances. 

“When you get to the pod, wait three hours,” Hayes stated. 

And before Reed could do anything—ineffectual as his actions most likely would have been—Hayes had jumped out from behind the bush and started running in the opposite direction of where their shuttlepod was hidden. Reed bit down on an expletive and waited, raging silently, until the sounds of chase faded away. Three hours, his arse—if Hayes didn't show up, Reed was going to track him down before killing him for being so idiotic. They weren't particularly close, as far as Reed's friendships on board _Enterprise_ , but damned if Reed was going to let Hayes actually get himself recklessly killed, not after bringing the man back from the edge of survival far too many times to not have at least a vague fondness for his continued life. Someone more superstitious might call Hayes' actions tempting fate, but Reed could only see his actions as those of a man who didn't quite know how to live after all was said and done and the Earth was saved. 

It had taken Reed by his own surprise, never mind the captain's, for him to suggest that Hayes might be a good fit for their continuing mission—he was in dire need of effectual and efficient security personnel, and despite their lingering personal differences, Reed did not actually mind Hayes as another voice of reason on a ship full of explorers without any sense of caution. Of course, after all of that, Hayes _would_ demonstrate what was, effectively, a death wish. 

Reed started counting down from one hundred, just to be on the safe side. He got to forty-seven when he heard a faint crunching from behind him. As he turned around to face the Thelobian tracker he heard another crunch from his left. 

Flickering his eyes around him—surrounded and outnumbered—Reed smiled, a little grim, and said, “I suppose this is where you take me to your leader.”

* * *

Reed had been pacing the cell—ten feet by fifteen by rough estimation, carved out of the bedrock on three sides, with a high-pulse energy field protecting the fourth—for going on four hours before he caught movement in his peripheral. A small group of Thelobians strode towards the cell, and it was when they were about halfway down the hall that Reed realized the figure in the middle was a highly bruised Hayes. 

The guards, bulky even without the combat armor, had absolutely no issue whatsoever in throwing Hayes through the energy field separating the cell from the hall; Hayes barely caught himself before landing face-first in the middle of the stone floor. As Reed had been suspecting, the energy field was only electrified on the prisoners' side—which made proper sense, despite Reed's literal shock upon finding that out for the first time—which most likely meant that the Thrlobians had sort of device to get the guards easily out of the cells when transporting prisoners. 

“They got you too?” Hayes asked as he rubbed at his jaw, pressing down every now and again to check for fractures. Reed would have to perform a medical examination of Hayes in order to determine the actual extent of his injuries—he dealt with things entirely too similarly to Reed, himself, for him _not_ to know that Hayes would most likely be keeping quiet about wounds he felt negligible to their present circumstances. 

“Apparently, they were too intelligent to fall for your game of 'tag',” Reed said, knowing that the begrudging amusement in his tone would betray the dignified, but annoyed calm he had been originally going for. 

“They knew there were two of us,” he continued, circling Hayes as he tried to back him into a corner without making a production of the whole mess, “so, presumably, when you got caught, they realized there was still another one—I'm sure they determined your most likely point of origin and spiraled their way out from there.

“And then, because I am, apparently, an idiot, I waited longer than actually necessary to leave, and, you know, they found me. Then they demonstrated how their guns work.” 

Hayes raised his eyebrows—it was a clear question of 'what the actual fuck?' and Reed could only shrug in reply. 

“What are you doing?” Hayes asked after another moment of Reed attempting to move in closer, eyeing him warily as he decidedly did not place himself into the corner of the cell like Reed had been hoping for. 

“I'm cornering you so I can see what's wrong, because I know you wouldn't let me had I said something. The thing is, you can't get far from me, not in here... But I also know that you'll put up a completely unnecessary fight, and I honestly don't want to deal with that right now.” 

Reed tried not to notice the slight upturn of Hayes' lips at his waspish words, but couldn't help feeling as though his candor made a positive impact on how Hayes would take his attentions. After a few moments of silence, Hayes' shoulders dropped and he agreed to Reed's medical attentions. 

“So, what's wrong?” Reed asked in awkward attempt to emulate at least some of Phlox's bedside manner. By Hayes' unimpressed stare, he had fallen quite short of the small comfort he intended the question to be. 

“Nothing broken,” Hayes said, “they just beat me a little.” 

“Yes, I can see that,” Reed replied idly, before making a quick motion to unzip Hayes' flack jacket. Hayes brushed him off before he could get the jacket over his shoulders, doing it himself with only a wince to betray his injuries. 

Reed looked him up and down before asking, “And those aren't broken, then?” as he gestured towards the three swollen fingers on Hayes' left hand. 

A pause. 

“Those might be broken.” 

“Oh, good,” Reed said, more than a little sarcastic as he snapped his fingers to give up the offending appendages.

“We don't have much by way of making a splint.” It was apologetic as Reed tore off strips of his own flack jacket and proceeded to tie Hayes' fingers tightly together, the heavy lining serving as an ersatz splint. “So this'll have to do.” 

Hayes' subdued 'thanks' was delayed, but Reed, much the same type himself when weakened, found appreciation in the word despite the unenthusiastic tone. 

“What did they want?” 

Reed asked it quietly, and only after he had finished checking over the rest of Hayes—he had not found any overt evidence of recording devices hidden within their cell, but it wouldn't make any logistical sense _not_ to have them present and focused on their prisoners. In lieu of a response, Hayes instead slid down the wall to sit down, motioning for Reed to follow him. 

“What is it?”

“Come closer,” Hayes said, “I don't want any of them to catch on.” 

A little wary, Reed looked around the cell once, twice, thrice, before settling down on his knees and leaning into Hayes' personal space. 

“They originally thought we were working with Theloba Gamma.” 

“And now?” 

“Well, they figured out that we weren't Thelobian, so it's not likely they still think that.” 

Reed sucked in his lips, a motion he knew only made him seem more grim than his usual expression, and let out a puff of breath that could, under many other circumstances, have been considered a sigh—he could feel the fatigue settling down on his shoulders, a prescient sign of what he was sure to come. 

“And it's almost guaranteed that they haven't made first contact. At least, from what we've evinced.” 

Hayes nodded. 

“Okay, then.” 

With another quick move, Reed sat down and propped his feet next to where Hayes' back was resting at the wall. Reed leaned in close, nudging at Hayes lightly with the tip of his boot to lean in as well; he started to worm his communicator out of the hidden pocket in his uniform—it had taken inordinate skill and more than a little luck for him to keep it hidden away from the Thelobians, and in the end, all he had to thank was the simple fact that the Thelobian medical personnel had no baseline for normal human physiology. 

“How did you—?” Hayes started to ask, but shook his head as though he didn't want the answer. Reed grinned a little at what he must have been thinking of. 

“You don't want to know,” Reed said, keeping in with the glimmer of humor that the situation had, bizarrely, seemed apropos for. 

The comm. was almost completely out of his pocket when Hayes, who had been watching the door with an avid eye, tapped Reed's shin with light, quick, fingers. 

“I don't know if we'll be able to get out.” Hayes' sudden opining was startling, especially after the other man leaned over to clutch at Reed's neck—Reed was forced to admit that the sudden change in attitude from Hayes disoriented him for a split second, his mind blanking at what to do with this, before he realized that he was being provided cover for whatever actions he would have to take in order to place his communicator in a more convenient location, away from the Thelobian's prying eyes. 

“Don't worry,” Reed answered awkwardly, patting at Hayes' hand as he went back to his knees, ostensibly to offer camaraderie; Hayes snorted under his breath, which Reed thought a reasonable reaction to his clumsy attempt at comfort. 

“You do this often, Reed?” Hayes asked, and if the Thelobians understood the concept of crying, they would most likely assume Hayes was doing just that. 

“Oh yeah, loads.” 

“What are we two speaking for?”

The question was tinny coming from the speaker of the Thelobian's translator—while it had seemed to pick up on English well enough, it was clearly a device built and used solely for languages with the same root origin. 

“Nada,” Hayes answered, and the guard's expression turned stony as the device failed to translate the word successfully. Reed thought that purposely antagonizing one of their captors was a monumentally stupid idea—he was also a little jealous that he hadn't thought of it first. 

“No moving,” was all the guard said, before nodding to let the Thelobian—who was holding both a large bag and a beeping device—behind them enter the cell. 

“What's going on?” Reed asked, brushing off his pants as he stood up—the comm. set itself fully into his pocket as he did so. Hayes stood up behind him, his presence a solid weight against the fact that the Thelobian who entered was a scientist; even if Reed wasn't aware of their standard uniform, he had still seen plenty of scientists through his travels to other planets to know when he was in the presence of one. 

“What are you planning to do?” Hayes' thoughts had obviously been through the same process as Reed's, and Reed hazarded a look back—the dark glare Hayes was giving towards their captors was all the more pronounced when coupled with the blooming bruises on his face. 

“Just injections—small tests.” The scientist paused and tilted their head. “Experiments, maybe? Test-experiments.” 

And then, before either Reed or Hayes could do much of anything about anything, the guard sprayed them with an oily liquid. Overwhelmingly disoriented, Reed only minimally felt his body fall against Hayes' as they slid to the ground. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Reed heard Hayes mutter as his vision started to grey out around the edges. 

“Somehow still not surprised,” he managed to say before passing out.

* * *

Reed woke up to a pain in his neck, splayed out against the corner of the cell, and entirely alone. He took a deep breath before standing up, hand pressed against the wall in support. 

“Hey!” he called out, knowing that it would only take a few minutes for someone to appear. Reed's head was beginning to absolutely kill him and the bright lights were not helping matters whatsoever. Closing his eyes for what he was sure was only a moment or two, he was caught by surprise by the 'yes?' that came through the tinny speaker. 

He ignored the Thelobian for a moment in order to curse himself over his own inattention—Hayes had obviously seen that Reed had been off his game and had planned his actions accordingly. Reed didn't have any reason as to his behavior other than an escalating scale of incompetency culminating in the two of them being knocked out and Hayes dragged off somewhere that Reed could not get to him without further knowledge of his whereabouts. 

“Where's Hayes?” Reed finally asked. 

“'Hayes'?” the scientist echoed. 

“The man here with me,” Reed said, gesturing around the cell to, hopefully, further his point. 

“This one, 'Hayes',” the scientist said after giving Reed what seemed to be an apprising once-over, “is for now. This one,” a gesture to Reed, himself, “is for later. Small test-experiments only for now. We will reunite soon, yes?

“Now—eat.” 

The guard said something to their companion guard in Limbiishu, the local Thelobian dialect that Sato had attempted to teach the two of them the rudiments of—Reed had barely picked up anything, never having been much of a linguist beyond what had been required of him in his educational pursuits—and their companion deposited a tray through the energy field. 

“Eat,” the scientist repeated, and watched Reed with such an avid expression that he immediately couldn't help but think of this as one of the experiments. 

“I'm stuffed, actually, but thank you for your generous offer.” 

The Thelobian nodded, as though expecting this reaction, and said something else to the guard. A door from down the hall clanged open and the Thelobians moved to the side so Reed could get a good look at what was coming through. Except it wasn't a 'what', but rather a slumped over and limping 'who'. 

“This one eats,” the scientist said to Reed, “and this one reunites, yes? No more test-experiments until the bleeding stops.” 

Reed cast a critical eye over Hayes, who had looked up at some point during the scientist's statement and was now shaking his head at the offer. 

“I'll take the chance,” Reed finally said, giving Hayes a half-smile and a shrug meant to convey 'well, what can you do with this sort of thing?'—he got a dead-pan stare in return. 

He placed a small bit of the food on his tongue and, when it didn't immediately kill him, swallowed it. The taste, while not particularly pleasant, wasn't the worst thing he had eaten in the past year, and was nowhere close to ranking in the top ten worst meals of his life. 

“Can he come in, then?” he asked and the scientist nodded, gesturing for the guards as they scribbled something down. 

Hayes was thrown into the cell once more. Without being able to assess Hayes' full condition, Reed caught him lightly about the middle in order to keep him upright—for all he knew, Hayes would be fine enough to stand on his own, but Reed didn't really want to take the off-chance that he wouldn't be. 

“Where're you bleeding, then?” Reed asked immediately, swinging their bodies around to place Hayes against the wall. 

“Just about goddamn everywhere, really,” Hayes said with a flippancy that made Reed's stomach curl unpleasantly for a few moments, “but mostly my torso.” 

“Your torso?” 

Hayes nodded, abrupt, and motioned for Reed to help him pull off his shirt. “Can't do anything about cleaning, but I don't want to have to peel off my shirt after the blood dries.” 

“That's just the absolute worst, isn't it?” Reed commiserated, dabbing at the thin, precise cuts and pretending not to know exactly what sort of instrument made that type of incision. “And then you can never get it out of the bloody fabric after it's dried.”

There was silence for a moment before Hayes asked, “Was the joke on purpose?” 

“What?” 

“You said 'bloody' fabric, but as an intensifier, not as a description.” 

“Oh,” Reed said dumbly and wondering why it even mattered, “no, it wasn't.” 

“Too bad, it was the funniest thing I've ever heard you say.” Hayes paused, smiling a little. “And you talk a lot for someone widely known to be an uptight asshole.” 

And because Reed was a good person, he continued to tend to Hayes' wounds as opposed to throwing the shirt in Hayes' face and making him do it on his own.

* * *

Three days later, Reed awoke once more to an empty cell. 

Hayes had stopped bleeding after the first couple of hours back in the cell, and the two of them had waited on tenterhooks for the two days following. The communicator was, to Reed's grim expectation, unable to get produce more than static due to the layer of rock they found themselves ensconced within, and they had been reduced to whispering plans against each others ears as they huddled in close—neither Hayes nor Reed knew if the Thelobian's translator could pick up on lip reading, but they readily agreed not to presume the technological capacity, or lack thereof, of the still unseen security devices. Food and water were delivered at regular intervals, and a scientist had come by twice to scan them with a flashing, spherical device; the walls were thick and every time either Reed or Hayes had thrown themselves against the energy field, they had bounced back, an electrical charge shocking them away from the invisible barrier. 

As he paced the cell, not knowing how long Hayes had been gone for, Reed wondered how he had stayed asleep through the guards coming in and taking him. Hayes had been on watch and Reed couldn't imagine that he _wouldn't_ have put up some sort of fight. 

When Reed called out to the guard, he was ignored—his motives were obvious enough, he supposed, and the Thelobians had no reason to answer any of his demanded questions. It didn't stop him from yelling himself hoarse in the couple of hours it took for Hayes to be returned. The Thelobians had all the power there, and they knew it—their weaponry was advanced enough to do shocking damage to a body, and the guards seemed willing enough to use extreme prejudice should the circumstances arise. It didn't stop him from yelling himself hoarse in the couple of hours it took for Hayes to be returned. 

* * *

“Have they asked you anything else?” 

Hayes shook his head, clenching his his fists in what Reed imagined to be more of a reflexive action than anything else. He was tense and by the slight twitching of his shoulders he was only exacerbating his wounds. 

“You need to relax,” Reed said, knowing even as he said it that it was nothing more than an exercise in futility, “you'll only make your injuries worse.” 

“Well, that'll be difficult considering our situation,” Hayes replied, giving his factual assessment with the slightest hint of smarm. Despite himself, Reed was rather charmed by Hayes' bite. If nothing else, it meant that despite the torture—it was obvious enough that that's what they were being subjected to, no matter that the Thelobian scientists and doctors had been insisting it was nothing more than 'small test-experiments to see how we function'—Hayes was still feeling well enough to be an utter prat. 

And then, in a fit of what Reed could only attribute to the undeniable fact that their continued well-enough-being depended primarily upon the actions of the other, he placed his hands on the junctions of where Hayes' neck met his shoulders, pushing in deep with his thumbs. Hayes flinched before going uncannily still. 

“That bad?” Reed asked rhetorically as he felt around the tightness in Hayes' muscles with the heels of his hands. 

“Yes,” Hayes replied, short, before clenching his jaw tight enough that Reed could physically pinpoint the moment he started. 

“Don't do that, you're bunching up,” Reed admonished him. 

“It's weird,” Hayes said. 

“What is?” 

Hayes snorted and said, “You doing this.” 

“Well, I'm not going to sit here and watch you when I could do something about the matter.” He paused and added, chirpily, “It's just not sporting, Hayes.” 

“J.” 

Reed, a little bemused at the non-sequitur, hummed a question. 

Hayes heaved a sigh as though Reed's not understanding was just another burden he was forced to endure. “Calling me 'Hayes' seems stupid, considering our current situation.” 

“So you'd prefer me to call you by the tenth letter of the alphabet? Did your parents name you that, or is it some sort of nickname?” 

“The latter,” Hayes said. 

“Well, I suppose you'll have to call me Malcolm, then.” 

“Don't sound so put out.” 

He winced a little as Reed's index and middle rubbed down the tendon of his neck—the brisk efficiency would smart for a while, but in the long-run would prove more helpful than stepping lightly ever would. 

“Don't be such a baby,” Reed said idly, “but do tell me if I stumble upon a wound I've forgotten about.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” Hayes' tone was sarcastic, but by the sudden weight against Reed's arms, he had also let himself relax enough to lean into the motions of Reed's hands. 

For awhile it was quiet. Reed let himself settle down as well, his own shoulders lowering while he started to match his breath to Hayes'. This was—despite their extenuating circumstances—the most at ease Reed had felt with someone in quite some time. It made a sick sort of sense, however much he tried to deny it to himself, that his equanimity had been found with Hayes. He had, after all, come into the realization that despite their mutual bluster around the other, they worked together almost eerily well. Reed would readily concede that he had started to care for Hayes as an individual, and not just as another body he was duty-bound to keep safe. 

Reed was shaken from his contemplation by a: “If you're going to do this, at least do it right.”

“Pardon?” 

Hayes tapped at his wrist with his uninjured hand, and Reed realized that his hands had stopped during his inner monologue. He flushed a little, feeling put on the spot without knowing exactly why he felt that way. 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“They know we're not working with Theloba Gamma,” Hayes said after awhile, when Reed's hands went softer and started working out the last of the knots in his neck. 

“They're just 'experimenting' because we're alien.” Reed paused and tilted his head, fingers tapping themselves on Hayes' neck in nervous motion. “I wonder why they haven't switched us off yet.” 

“Do you want them to?” Hayes asked, arch. “I can let them know you'll take a spin.” 

“They took you when I was asleep,” Reed continued, blithely ignoring Hayes in favor of puzzling out this new mystery, “but I would have woken up in normal circumstances. They must have drugged us again.” 

Hayes grunted—though he had no evidence to do so, Reed took it as agreement. 

“Thanks, by the way.” 

“For what?” Reed asked. 

“For the massage.” 

Flashing Hayes a quick smile as he pulled his hands away, moving position to sit next to him, Reed said, “Think of it as mandatory physical therapy.” 

“Oh, are you a medical professional now?” Hayes replied, leaning into Reed's shoulder with his own. 

Hayes' sudden acceptance of physical touch could, in Reed's mind, be due to three discrete options: he was hurt more than he had let on to Reed; he needed the reminder that torture wasn't the only physical touch he could receive; or—and this was the one locker Reed had put most of his weaponry into—it had simply been too long since he had been with someone he trusted enough for the contact. 

“You should sleep,” Reed said, tapping at the shoulder Hayes' was resting against. “I won't hold it against you if you drool on me, promise.” 

“Yes, you will,” Hayes said, the slight shock in his reply belying the long-suffering, 'tch, fine' that he finally decided on, four or five beats too late. 

“Better than the floor,” Reed quipped, hitching up a bit to sit cross-legged and comfortable for a few hours. 

“Barely,” Hayes muttered, but laid his head, neck stiff, against Reed's shoulder. 

“What is the matter with you?” Reed asked as he threw an arm around Hayes' waist and pulled him close to his side. “If you tell me it's the first time you've cuddled with a man in a prison cell, I won't even pretend to believe you—you're a MACO for god's sake.” 

“It's not—”

“The same? Close your eyes and think of the Queen, you won't be able to tell the difference.” 

Hayes snorted out a fairly ugly laugh—it seemed that some of Reed's humor had done well for him, because his body finally loosened out and let most of his weight fall on Reed. 

“You ever have to think of the Queen?” Hayes asked against Reed's neck. He shivered a little at the warm breath—Hayes, obviously knowing he was in no position to poke fun at him, ignored Reed's reaction. 

“Once. Freezing my bollocks off in a shuttlepod with Trip.

“What about you?” 

“Ice cave.” Hayes said promptly. “And one time after hiding in a river and breathing through a reed for six hours.” 

Reed narrowed his eyes and twisted his neck just enough to stare down at Hayes' ear. “Is that a joke?” 

“Absolutely not,” Hayes said, “but I can understand why you might think so.” 

“You couldn't have just said bamboo?” 

“Well, Malcolm,” Hayes pointed out, patting consolingly at the back of Reed's neck, “then I would have been lying.” 

“Go to sleep,” Reed said, barely holding back his scoff when Hayes laughed. 

“Wake me in six hours and I'll go on watch.” 

“Of course,” Reed replied, intending to do absolutely no such thing.

Hayes didn't hold back his scoff, obviously knowing exactly what Reed was planning. He must have been exhausted though, or knew it was nothing more than a fruitless endeavor, because he didn't argue his case further.

* * *

“Any signal?” 

Reed shook his head and slammed the comm. down against his leg—an entirely ineffectual motion much like the previous times he had done the same thing. 

“Maybe if we could get it out of this rock layer, but...” He trailed off, heaving a breath as he stuffed it back into his pocket. 

“We'll have to brainstorm, then.” Hayes was agreeing to a point that Reed had not meant to make, but Reed found himself nodding along to Hayes' words anyways. 

“We have to consider that _Enterprise_ —” Reed started. 

Hayes interrupted him with an 'already considered' as he bumped his boot against Reed's in a sort of commiseration.

“Yeah, me too.” He paused. “Could you get somewhere that would have information on how to get us out, or maybe even just get a signal out?” 

“If we managed to get out of here, yeah—they haven't kept their computer use hidden away from me, and I memorized one of the codes. We're most likely in a compound of some sort, but it's lacking in guards—this is definitely a science facility of some sort.” 

Reed, while impressed, also felt fairly useless in comparison. He had, after all, learnt nothing except how to annoy the guards and how to stay obstinate in the face of the few scientists that had gone into the cell to poke at him.

“Okay,” Reed finally said, “now I suppose we just need a plan.” 

“Always the hardest part,” Hayes said, wincing a little as Reed jostled his side when moving position. 

“Sorry.” 

“Nah,” Hayes replied, waving off Reed's concern—the broken fingers of his left hand were still worryingly swollen, and despite Reed's best efforts at splinting them together, his ring finger had started to set a little crooked—before he sucked in a breath at moving his fingers too much. 

“Be careful,” Reed said, catching his wrist in his hand before Hayes could pull it back to his side. “Are they better or worse than yesterday?” 

“Worse,” Hayes admitted, grudging, and only after Reed had squeezed lightly at them to make sure he could actually still feel the pain—while it might have hurt, it was better than feeling nothing at all. 

“Okay. When we get to the shuttlepod I'll have to reset them, but they should be fine.” 

“Oh, so you're an optimist?” Hayes asked, closing his thumb around Reed's fingers to trap them against his palm. 

“I'm a realist,” Reed said. “J—between you and I? We'll be out of here in no time.”

“Because we're goddamn professionals,” Hayes replied, and Reed tapped at Hayes' palm in mute agreement. 

After a while, Reed sighed and bit the metaphorical bullet. “You know I'm not thinking of the Queen, right?” 

Hayes nodded and said, “Me neither,” which, quite honestly, made Reed feel less foolish than he had been worried he would appear. 

“Right, then—good.” 

“Yeah.” 

They said nothing else about the matter.

* * *

“—here now.” 

Reed, only half awake, let the tinny voice wash over him as he reached out to determine what Hayes was doing. 

“And you won't do anything to him?” 

His hand pat at empty space and as the Thelobian replied, 'yes, the agreement is currently valid', Reed realized exactly what was happening. 

He opened his eyes to see Hayes willingly going along with the guard's rough handling and wanted to kick himself for being so naïve in regard to what Hayes had been up to. Hayes looked back into the cell after walking forward a few feet, and Reed made sure to meet his eyes head-on. 

'Sorry', Hayes mouthed, and Reed could tell that he wasn't sorry at all, the absolute fucker.

* * *

“So what, you're just looking to kill yourself, then?” 

It had been approximately an hour since Hayes had been marched back into their cell and, while Reed had tended to his wounds with unflinching accuracy, he stayed silent the entire time. After a while of Hayes' brief, awkward attempts at conversation, he finally sighed and got down to what Reed had been aiming for. 

“It's not that, Malcolm.” He sounded calm, like he had weighed the pros and cons of deliberately facing torture so Reed didn't have to—and then pointedly set that list on fire to do whatever the hell came to his mind. 

“Then what is it?” Reed asked, a twist in his gut as Hayes didn't respond. “Because I can't think of another bloody reason.” 

Hayes took a breath through his nose—Reed, dimly, noticed that it wasn't anywhere close to even. “I just think that between the two of us—well, I think that you'd be better off. More equipped to—” 

“Don't,” Reed interrupted, settling down on his knees beside where Hayes was resting against the wall. Reed leaned in close, placing himself inches away from Hayes' face; he was trying to demonstrate a point that he couldn't quite articulate, even to himself. “It's going to be the both of us, or nothing. This entire thing will have been pointless, otherwise.” 

He paused to take a breath, reaching out to grip at Hayes' shoulder. “This is an executive decision.” 

“You're not my CO,” Hayes said, before conceding and nodding under Reed's glare. He placed his hand over Reed's own and squeezed—Reed, not letting himself be swayed, continued to glare. 

“And, J? You're to let the scientists do as they will.” 

Hayes scoffed. “You know I can't agree to that.” 

“Then I'll just not sleep and volunteer myself up when they come about looking. Should have ample time to think up a plan—all those waking hours and such.” 

“We'll just have to find out when the time comes,” Hayes replied, "because I can do the same thing." 

Reed snorted his agreement. 

Hayes was absolutely infuriating. Though he had already come to that conclusion months before, there was something in their newfound emotional connection that put him up and against an edge he wouldn't otherwise find himself on. He leaned his forehead on Hayes' uninjured shoulder and let out a huff—this would, no doubt, be his undoing. 

A hand was placed on the top of his head. 

“Let's go over the route again,” Hayes suggested, and rested his chin on Reed's head, turning his head to try and block any outsider view of his lips. It felt different this time, their forced physical closeness turning itself, inexorably, into some sort of shared intimacy that neither had actually asked for but seemed to fall into, nevertheless. 

Hayes' lips brushed his ear as he whispered the route to Reed once more, and it was in the fact that he deliberately kept them there that Reed believed Hayes to be harboring at least some of the sentiment Reed was. Hayes wouldn't relent, the Thelobians wouldn't, but neither would Reed. An idea was forming, half outlined and mostly dealing in good timing and a little bit of luck, in his mind. The plan was, most likely, a monumentally moronic idea, but it was an idea to get Hayes away from the line of fire—he felt as though the assured backfiring, and its consequences, would be worth it in the end, when it came to the long and short of it all. 

Preparing for the next time the guard came to take one of them away, Reed let his mind wander—the silence, only hearing his own breaths interweaving with Hayes', was a comfort, a reason why he was going to get the both of them out of there and back to the shuttlepod. From there, Reed didn't have a clear vision of what would happen, but he felt as though being in orbit, away from the reach of the Thelobians, was their best chance at survival—the _Enterprise_ waiting for them or not. 

“I just wanted to say...” Hayes trailed off. Reed started to move up to face him once more, but Hayes gripped the back of his neck desperately, as though he didn't want Reed to actually look at him when he continued. “You're the best person to go through this thing with. In my opinion. I don't actually regret my actions—I knew from the beginning that you'd patch me up when needed.” 

It was awkward, and Reed thought it obvious that Hayes wasn't one to talk about anything emotional in such a way; Reed, who wasn't quite as emotionally constipated, but was also able to wholeheartedly empathize with Hayes' stilted confession, nodded and brought his hand up to the nape of Hayes' neck, letting his fingers dig gently into the muscles. Hayes shuddered, once, before going still.

“You _can_ allow yourself to—” 

“After,” Hayes said, his tone brokering no disagreement. “After, and then I'll be up at your door at three in the morning, half-drunk and half-cocked. But not now.” 

“Later,” Reed agreed after a moment. He scraped his nails against Hayes' hairline in consolation, and Hayes bobbed his chin a bit at the motion, as though both accepting of this compromise and enjoying the soothing motions. 

“It's the same for me,” Reed said after awhile. 

Hayes, who had been easy enough to maneuver into a more comfortable position for Reed—he was, after all, getting older, and he could only hunch forward on his knees on a prison cell floor for so long before it became an issue—looked up from where he had been leaning, obviously exhausted, on Reed's thigh. His health had been deteriorating over the course of their capture, a fact that the both of them attributed to whatever experiments the Thelobians had run on him, and he was beginning to show signs of stress fatigue in increasing increments—not that Reed would hear a word of complaint from Hayes other than the expected grumbling about 'resting all the goddamn time' and 'next thing you know I'll lose the complete ability to do my fucking job, even when we're back on ship'.

“What's the same?” Hayes asked. 

“My thoughts about being captured with you.” 

They were silent for awhile. 

“That could prove to be a problem for us,” Hayes said. 

And Reed? Couldn't disagree with that assessment.

* * *

The first thing Reed noticed upon waking up was his massive headache. He had been gassed, he remembered that much, but the 'why' was another matter—

“You fucking bastard!” 

There was a buzz of electricity as Reed threw himself against the energy shield—he didn't feel the shock through the thrumming of his increased heart rate. He picked himself up off of the floor and starting pacing the cell. On the one hand, he couldn't believe Hayes would renege that quickly on his word, but on the other hand—Reed hit the stone wall with the palm of his hand—it made more sense than his backing down did. Reed couldn't believe he fell for that. To compound the issue, Hayes was getting worse, and even Reed was beginning to feel the effects of the experiments the Thelobians had been testing on him. 

His plan wasn't foolproof by any means—it could, in fact, be argued that it was a plan with a likelihood of getting Reed killed instead of freed—but it also was the only one that didn't involve continuing to lie low and going for a more subtle means of escape.

There wasn't much time for them left on Theloba, whether his plan worked out or not.

* * *

Reed watched closely as the guard threw Hayes into the cell. To Reed's personal displeasure—and, conversely, to his professional benefit—Hayes looked decidedly worse off than how he had looked before this last round of torture. 

“I'm not sorry,” Hayes said after a moment, staggering his way towards the wall where Reed was sitting. 

“I understand,” Reed replied. And he did—hard-pressed not to do the same, Hayes had just been faster on that front. 

“You look terrible.” 

Hayes sneered a little, the twist in his jaw more of a snarl than anything else. “You don't look too hot, yourself.”

Reed didn't respond. 

They sat in silence after that, for a few minutes, before Reed said, “You should sleep.” 

“Are you going to do something stupid if I do?” Hayes asked. 

“You've done quite enough of that for the both of us, I think.” 

“So that's a 'yes'.” 

“They won't take either one of us right now,” Reed said, “you know I've already run down that track.” 

Hayes didn't respond to that, but after a little while he hunkered down against Reed to sleep. Reed counted a slow fifteen minutes before he extricated himself from Hayes and settled him down on the floor. If there was one thing he could count on, it would be that Hayes' deteriorating physical condition would make him take at least a minute or two to manage to wake up and stand—Reed could do a lot of things in that time frame. 

He walked over to the energy field and quietly got the attention of a guard. 

“It is not time,” the guard said, coming over only once they realized Reed wasn't going to stop haranguing them. 

“Hayes is not breathing correctly,” Reed said, gesturing to where he had left Hayes in a loosely-curled lump against the far wall. “His lungs are not working.” 

For not the first time, Reed was grateful that the Thelobians had no concept of what humans actually got emotional about, because they wouldn't have believed Reed's calm tone otherwise. As it was, his professionalism must have sparked something as truth in the eyes of the guard, and they started speaking into an earpiece. 

“We will show the professionals,” the guard said, and Reed nodded tightly. 

Reed looked behind him as the doors opened and the scientist strode their way down the hall; as he had half expected, Hayes twitched at the familiar noise before opening his eyes. Turning back to the guard, Reed started an internal countdown, backing himself up as the guard indicated. It was with forty seconds left, Reed three-quarters of the way to where Hayes was, that the guard and scientist entered the cell. The doctor was muttering to themselves, and the guard was only half-watching Reed as they kept the other eye on where the scientist was moving. 

“Let me show you the problem,” Reed said and, when the scientist nodded, moved closer. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Hayes asked as he sat himself up. 

The scientist, then, confused, stumbled back a step. With a brief glance at the guard, a little stunned themselves, Reed twisted himself around the scientist and brought them into a headlock, positioning their body between the guard's weapon and Reed's and Hayes' own bodies. Reed's gamble about scientists not usually being trained for combat seemed to have panned out—they froze instead of fighting against their capture. 

“I _will_ kill them,” Reed said, keeping a steady eye on where the guard now had their gun trained on him. 

Hayes' hissed 'Malcolm' was accompanied by him scrabbling to get up to his feet. Reed hoped that Hayes wouldn't do anything to muck this up, but was preparing for a hitch, nevertheless. 

The guard looked between the three of them, before smiling a little and shooting the scientist in the head. Reed threw the body down before he could topple over as well, and lunged for the guard's weapon. 

The gun discharged; Reed's communicator broke against his leg and the guard's armor. 

Reed heard a grunt from behind him as he made contact with the guard, using the weapon's kick-back against them as he smashed their wrist against the floor. The gun clattered to the ground and Reed reached out blindly to scrabble for it. His hand made contact, the grip a cool metal, and he grinned, tasting the blood from his split lip and reveling in the victory. 

After that, the fight was over—Reed fired the weapon and the guard stopped moving.

“J,” Reed said, hauling the dead Thelobian up by the front of their uniform. 

“What?” Hayes ground out. 

“Get over here.” 

A huff of breath made Reed look back. 

“J—” he started, eyes darting back and forth from Hayes' pallor to the gunshot wound in his side. 

“We need to get to the surface,” Hayes responded harshly, pressing the rest of Reed's jacket against the wound. Reed saw him tense at the pressure, but Hayes said nothing as he took hold of the guard's body as well and they hauled themselves through the energy field. 

“We don't have long,” Reed said, throwing the guard's body down before gesturing for Hayes to walk in front of him. He resisted the urge to hold onto Hayes, knowing that it would most likely slow the both of them down, and contented himself with keeping a careful guard of the situation. 

The recording devices planted in the cell weren't as efficient as Reed and Hayes had presumed, or the Thelobians had started to underestimate the two of them during their captivity and decreased their monitoring, but either way, they didn't run into any problems until they reached the branching hallway. 

“Control room,” Reed muttered to himself, almost bumping into Hayes' back as he started to slow down. 

“Not enough firepower,” Hayes replied, doubling over a little as he turned on his heel. “You remember how they got you in here, right?”

“Well enough,” Reed said, not knowing if he believed it, himself. 

Hayes puffed out a breath, opening his mouth to say something in reply, before he he started to tip over. 

“Fuck,” Reed cursed, ignoring Hayes' 'I'm fine' in favor of throwing him over his shoulder, hoping the added pressure of his body against Hayes' would would help more than hinder the gunshot wound. 

“You're not to die,” Reed commanded, firing at the back of a Thelobian as he turned a corner. 

“Not planning on it,” Hayes said in reply—Reed couldn't help but notice that his voice was fainter than he would have appreciated Reed acknowledging, and so he kept his mouth shut. And, as though in understanding, Hayes' took his dangling hand and squeezed Reed's side, tight. 

“Get me that gun.”

Reed didn't hesitate in doing exactly that.

* * *

They had to kill another seven Thelobians to get out, Reed having had taken a wrong turn and the Thelobians finally having had realized that their prisoners were attempting to escape. By the time they reached the outside, Hayes' breath had thinned and Reed could feel his blood seeping into his own clothing. 

“J,” Reed said, pitching recklessly into the forest as the yelling from the guards grew louder—they would have a better shot there than keeping in the open areas, despite the fact that Reed didn't know the direction the shuttlepod was in. 

Hayes didn't respond. 

“Major Hayes!” Reed barked out, ignoring the tightness in his throat. “Report!” 

“Yes'sr,” Hayes finally responded, a slur in his words as he bumped along on Reed's shoulder. 

“Stay awake.” 

A tired 'aye' was all that Hayes said; Reed picked up his pace. 

He darted in and out of the forest paths, desperately trying to find some sort of landmark he could orient himself with. Heading northwest was his only direction at the moment, but he was forced to swerve whenever he heard the clashing yells of the Thelobians sent out to track them down. 

“Just keep on,” Reed continued, knowing that Hayes was most likely not listening. “I've grown quite fond of you, and it would be a pity to have you die because of me.” 

Hayes scoffed, having obviously heard, and said, “Should've thought of it first.” 

“Should've got me shot?” Reed asked, trying to keep Hayes talking. 

“No, tackling the fuck out of them,” Hayes said, and Reed laughed—Hayes sudden clarity was most likely some sort of shock, but Reed knew that having him conscious and in shock was better than having him unconscious and unable to respond. 

“I don't know if you would have been able to—they wouldn't have had reason to come into the cell,” Reed said. “Now keep talking, J, and I'll get us back.”

* * *

The sun was setting by the time Reed managed to spot the ribbon he and Hayes had attached to the trees at the shuttlepod's half-mile mark. It seemed like a different lifetime, a different set of people who had completed those actions before going undercover on a hostile planet, and Reed thought it was a trap for a minute before remembering that they had been the ones to put the marker there in the first place. 

Hayes' increasingly nonsensical speech had, at some point in the last hour, dwindled down to only speaking a few words and even then only when Reed prompted him. 

“Hey, I found our marker,” Reed said, putting the gun into his pocket for a moment in order to smooth his fingers against the back of Hayes' neck—Hayes groaned out a 'good' before falling silent once more. Reed kept his hand on Hayes' neck, despite the awkward positioning, and picked up his pace to an overburdened jog. 

If the _Enterprise_ wasn't still waiting for them, Hayes would die. 

Starfleet protocol would have had the ship already gone, but if there was one thing Reed could count on, it was the fact that Archer was completely willing to disregard regulation when it suited him—he had never wished that the captain would continue the trend. 

Losing Hayes would be—

Hayes' breath evened as he lost consciousness. 

And call it co-dependence from their capture, or a culmination of what was there all along, but as Hayes went limp in Reed's hold, he realized that he had gone and fallen in love with the bastard. 

“We'll get you home,” Reed promised, and put on a burst of speed he didn't know he had in him.

* * *

“Reed to _Enterprise_.” Reed hailed the ship for a third time as he finished the shuttlepod's start-up process. “Come in, _Enterprise_.” 

Hayes hadn't awoken even as Reed used the emergency med kit on his gunshot wound, and was now strapped down onto the bench as Reed prayed to get them out of orbit safely. The bleeding had slowed, the hole thankfully a through and through, but without proper equipment, Reed couldn't know the internal damage that was done as a result of the trauma. 

There was a burst of harsh static before Sato's voice came over the comm.. “ _Enterprise_ here, what is your confirmation?” 

“Delta Seven Alfa X-Ray Niner Tango Quebec Seven,” Reed said, firing up the engines even as the proximity warning started blaring in his ear. 

“Lieutenant.” Sato's voice was relieved, and Reed felt a little chuffed at the thought of her worry. “What are your co-ordinates?” 

Reed rattled them off and was not surprised when the _Enterprise_ 's bearings were spoken by Archer. 

“We'll take care of your entourage,” Archer continued. “You and Hayes focus on getting back to the ship.” 

“Aye, sir. 

"And, captain?” Reed continued. “Have Phlox on stand-by—Hayes needs emergency medical attention. He's been shot.” 

“Roger that,” Archer replied. “I'm keeping the line quiet on this end, barring emergency.” 

“Roger,” Reed echoed, focus mostly on the incoming missiles that seemed to have pinpointed their location. 

A missile hit the side of the shuttlepod, Reed barely managing to dodge another two, and even though _Enterprise_ could hear him through the comm., he let out a continuous stream of expletives as he struggled to pilot the small shuttle against the incoming wave of nausea—this was, of course, the exact last thing that Reed needed. He knew it was because of the damn experiments, but he also knew that he wouldn't say anything about it until Phlox and his med techs had stabilized Hayes. Reed wouldn't have his problems be a deterrent from his treatment. 

There was another missile impact, and the shuttlepod's systems blared about structural integrity. The _Enterprise_ was felling the Thelobian's planes, and Reed hoped they would manage to take care of some of the missiles before the shuttlepod's systems went totally kaput. 

“Malcolm?” 

Reed almost didn't hear the question over the noise, but there was something about Hayes' tone that made him crane his neck back for the split-second he could spare. The concussive force of the missiles' impacts must have woken him up—Reed almost wished that Hayes had stayed unconscious, because then he wouldn't have to deal with the added stress of making sure Hayes stayed still. 

“We're on the shuttle, J—try not to move, okay?” 

“I should tell you—”

“Tell me later,” Reed interrupted, not wanting to hear what he knew Hayes believed to be some of his last minutes. “We're almost in orbit, and then it's clear sailing.” 

“Malcolm, let me—” 

“No,” Reed said. 

Hayes puffed out a breath, somewhere close to a laugh, and said, “Stubborn asshole.” 

“You can tell me when you're half-drunk and half-cocked at my door at three in the bloody morning.” 

Reed hoped that _Enterprise_ couldn't overhear Hayes' suggestive 'I'd be more than half-cocked', but also couldn't help his snort of laughter. Hayes could be undeniably charming, and all it seemed to take was his literal bleeding out—which seemed to be, Reed thought ruefully, the idiotic type of man he found himself attracted to. 

“Would you hold it against me?” 

“Absolutely,” Reed replied instantly, letting himself take a full breath as they entered orbit with no sign of the missiles being space capable, “but then I'd be forced to admit much the same, so the humiliation wouldn't last long.” 

“Good,” Hayes said quietly. 

Once he set the course to _Enterprise_ , Reed left the pilot's chair to check his vitals. 

“We'll get you home soon enough,” Reed said, trying not to let his worry over Hayes' condition show. “And Phlox can use some of his slugs on you—I know how much you love those.” 

Hayes pointedly rolled his eyes before closing them; despite Reed's protests, he fell into unconsciousness once more. 

“Stupid prick,” he said, and he didn't know if he was talking to Hayes for having the audacity to pass out, or to himself for not listening to what Hayes had to say. 

He pretended that his increased nausea had only to do with the after-effects of their captivity.

* * *

There was a veritable welcoming committee there to greet the two of them as they docked with the ship. Archer and Phlox were front and center, but Reed barely even noticed the two of them, let alone the gaggle of others that had somehow found it necessary to crowd themselves in the hanger bay. 

“Malcolm,” Archer said, hauling him in by the shoulders for a brief hug, “it's good to see you.” 

Reed found himself unable to respond to the captain, focused on where Phlox was unbuckling Hayes from the shuttlepod bench—the doctor was issuing low orders to his subordinates, too quiet for Reed to hear. As they hauled Hayes onto a stretcher and brought him out of the shuttle, Reed broke away from Archer to, almost blindly, follow the medical team. He knew it was irrational, but Reed felt as though the moment he let Hayes out of his sight, Hayes would die. 

“Malcolm!” Archer called out, and Reed heard distant footsteps catch up to him. “Do you need medical attention too?” 

“I need to be there,” Reed said, “I need to make sure he survives.” 

“Malcolm,” Archer started and, when Reed ignored him in favor of dogging the steps of Phlox's med team—one broke off from the pack and had started to scan him with a tricorder; Reed brushed them off easily—shouted, “Lieutenant Reed, about face.” 

Years of training drilled into him, Reed stopped in his tracks and turned to the captain. In two long strides, Archer caught up to him and took him by the shoulders. 

“What's happening?” 

Reed took a deep breath and said, “I just need to be there. I'll tell you everything—I just—” 

Archer nodded and put up his hands, placating. “Okay. We'll get you checked out as well, and you can stay there.”

* * *

The story wasn't all that long to tell, and Reed was only halfway through his physical when he had finished. 

“This should help the nausea,” Cutler said into the silence—Reed couldn't even feel the needle as it went into his neck. “Everything should flush out of your system within a week.” She paused and Reed nodded to show he was listening. “You need to stay here for the next forty-eight hours.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Reed said. For the first time, he wouldn't complain about being confined to the medical bay—he honestly wouldn't have chosen to be anywhere else. 

“I'll stay here until we find out more.” 

Archer's words barely penetrated Reed's mind as he clenched his fists over and over again, Hayes' dried blood cracking against his skin, knowing that he should clean himself up but unable to tear his eyes away from the curtain Phlox had pulled shut during surgery. 

They, the two of them sitting on biobeds with Cutler moving around the room in an obvious move to keep an eye out on Reed, waited for Phlox's announcement of Hayes' condition. 

* * *

It was three hours later, Reed slumped against the bed as he tried not to fall asleep, that Phlox opened the curtain. A burst of adrenaline made its way through Reed's system, and he failed to notice the fact that his hands had started shaking in response to the stimulant. 

“Major Hayes is, as of right now, in stable condition. He will have to be monitored overnight, but I do not feel it too soon to say that I believe he will pull through.” Phlox paused. “You took quite good care of him, lieutenant.” 

Reed ignored Phlox's sentiment and asked, “Can I sit there?” 

Phlox looked confused, before clearing all expression from his face and nodding. “Yes, but he won't wake up for a few hours.” 

“That's fine,” Reed said. He stood up quickly and shook his head against the edges of his vision turning grey, before waving away the hand that Archer offered him. “Just need some water, I'll be fine.” 

“Lieutenant,” Phlox warned, watching him closely as he drank the entire glass of water he had been handed by Cutler. 

Reed sat down on the chair next to Hayes' bed and turned his back to the rest of the room. The two of them immediately started whispering, and Reed knew it was most likely about him, but he couldn't find it in himself to actually care about their concerned mutterings—Hayes, with proper bandaging and medical treatment, somehow looked worse than he ever did in the cell. He took a deep breath, two, three, and then noticed that Hayes' finger was still crooked; Phlox had most likely decided not to set the finger until Hayes' more pressing injuries were closer to healed. 

“I'm not sorry at all, J, just so you know,” Reed said, knowing that if Hayes were awake he would hear the lie in an instant. 

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Hayes' thigh, the accumulation of everything hitting him only once he realized that he managed to get the both of them back to the _Enterprise_. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, thankful that no one could see his ruddy complexion as he let a few tears fall into the sheet covering Hayes. “I love you, you fucking asshole.” 

“Malcolm?” 

Reed neither knew nor cared if Archer had heard him, but he responded as though he had. 

“I should have let him talk.” 

Archer's hand landed, heavy, on Reed's shoulder and he tried not to flinch. 

“You should clean up, get some rest.” When Reed didn't respond, he said, “It's not like you're allowed to go far anyways,” and the jocular tone in his voice flat before he even finished. 

“Just—give me a bit,” Reed said, and didn't breathe until he felt Archer leave from hovering around his shoulder.

* * *

Reed woke up to Hayes staring at him. 

“J,” he said, surprised that five hours had passed as he glanced over Hayes' form and to the chronometer. He placed his hand on Hayes chest, grateful to see that he already looked healthier. “You're awake.” 

“Yeah,” Hayes replied, moving his hand to rest over Reed's. “And I know it's not three in the morning, but I wanted to tell you something—you're an idiot.” 

Reed blinked a couple of times before grinning. “You too—you absolute prick.” 

“And I know this'll cause us both nothing but misery in the long run, but I love you.” Hayes paused for a moment, licking his lips. “Now either hold it against me for a bit, or get over here and kiss me, because Phlox told me I'm not allowed to sit up.” 

“Oh, however will you survive, you poor thing?” Reed asked, before leaning into Hayes' personal space to bracket him. “And I love you too, for _some_ godforsaken reason.” 

“It might have been the forced quarters,” Hayes said, pulling Reed down by the back of his neck to better get at him. 

“The psychological circumstances,” Reed continued. 

Hayes hummed before saying, “But, you know, it might have just happened.” 

“Probably that one,” Reed agreed, and, unable to deny himself what they both obviously wanted, closed the distance to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> xoxo


End file.
